


Be it Hell or Brooklyn

by sulfur_socks (orphan_account)



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Bets & Wagers, Brooklyn Nine-Nine fusion, Cas as Amy Santiago, Castiel's Eyes, Confused Sam Winchester, Cops, Couch Sex, Dean as Jake Peralta, Destiel-Freeform, First Dates, French Kissing, Hate to Love, M/M, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Rivalry, Snarky Castiel, Spooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-25 06:47:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3800794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sulfur_socks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam was known to be the mature Winchester but curiosity was his weak point. ‘Curiosity killed the Sam’ was more appropriate than ‘Curiosity killed the cat’.<br/>“What are you guys talking about?”<br/>This time, the minus 6000 degrees kelvin glare was directed at him but curiosity worked as a shield. He did shiver though.<br/>“Cas over here-”<br/>Dean said in an amused drawl, patting Castiel’s shoulder annoyingly.<br/>“Was so smashed that he bet that if he lost, he’ll go on a date with me-”<br/>He paused dramatically.<br/>“And Baby!”<br/>Wait. What.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be it Hell or Brooklyn

**Author's Note:**

> Cops and fluff and itty bitty sexy time~ with a vague reference to Phineas and Ferb and Dirty Dancing. Enjoy~

“I believe I have never lost a bet.”

“That’s ‘cause you’ve never bet before this, Milton.”

Dean should have got the medal of valour instead of Andy because he actually held a stare with the frost blue eyes of Castiel Milton. Considering those said eyes were currently cold-glaring at him more than usual. When he means cold, he means colder than standing in Greenland with wet clothes on. Stuffed with ice cubes.

A throat being cleared broke the tension buzzing in the air. Dean turned towards the source and saw Sam, shuffling awkwardly, his brows furrowed.

***                                                    

“Uh…what bet?”

“Hey, Winchester, You didn’t know? Your brother and Castiel over there made a bet almost half a year ago! Where were you?”

Chuck said with a grin, patting his back as he made his way past the three of them. Sam looked briefly at the dishevelled man before looking back at his brother, with an eyebrow raised.

“You and Castiel made a bet? That’s like Balu eating Mowgli.”

Sam snickered, ignoring as Dean retaliated with a classy ‘bitch’.

“So what’s the bet about? And how come I’m hearing about this for the first time?!”

Sam asked a tad bit indignantly. This was something Dean could have added to all those Whiskey-ridden nights he was bitching and cribbing about the blue-eyed fire and ice.

   From what he had heard from Dean, his brother and Castiel were like each others’s nemesis, like that kid cartoon show with a German doctor whose head resembles a coconut tree and a blue platypus wearing a fedora. He doesn’t want to know why he remembers this. He should blame the uncomfortable amount of knowledge about cartoon shows on the innumerable hours he spent babysitting Lilli. He swears sometimes that kid is actually possessed by a demon.

This time it was Castiel who answered.

“During the New Year’s party, everyone had imbibed a lot of intoxicating drinks, leading to many drunken stories. Your brother was one of the annoying men who decided that he would and could wax poetic about himself. In the process of recounting his best cases, he thought it would be wise to mention that he thought he was a stellar detective and that I was not. Hence, I went on to prove that he was wrong. But seeing as your brother is extremely pig-headed from all the bacon he consumes on daily basis and the ample amount of alcohol he had that night, he bet that he could catch more ‘cronies’ in half a year than I, and that if he lost, he would sell his car.”

Sam gaped at the incensed cop, who looked like he was imagining different ways to spit-roast Dean and feed him to the pigeons. He was starting to get shit-scared of Castiel but mostly he was shocked that his brother had reached such a high level of inebriation that he bet his car.

That was like Han Solo bartering Princess Leia with Jabba the Hut. It’s not like Castiel is Jabba the Hut, but…yeah.

  Dean’s car and Jabba the Hut aside, to be honest, this was the longest he has heard Castiel speak.

The pissed off Milton, didn’t actually answer his whole question, but he was too scared to ask.

“Hey! Bacon doesn’t make you pig headed! The world’s greatest minds consume them on a daily basis.”

Dean said indignantly, just earning a stiff roll of eyes from his rival.

At that very moment, the Older Winchester blinked and then donned a Mephistophelean grin. He had remembered something and Sam was fairly sure, it wasn’t going to be something nice. ‘Fairly’ was putting it light.

“Oh! And Cas?”

Dean drawled, clearly enjoying the annoyed reaction he elicited from Castiel, when he called him ‘Cas’.

“I think you forgot something.”

Castiel’s eyes widened with recognition and his back went stiff.

If there was a record for glares that could become colder and threaten to freeze the pee before it wets your pants, then Castiel would win the Guinness world record for that. And not relinquish it before the year 6015…Or ever.

It seemed that the glare only affected Sam even if it wasn’t directed at him (Hallelujah!). His brother, unfazed, was just smirking in victory, like he thought it was fun playing with a Wild cat brandishing its claws at his throat.

  “I did not forget.”

Castiel bit out, gritting his teeth. There was so much venom infused in the words that even Viper would have been put to shame. At least according to Sam, seeing as Dean was just guffawing his intestines out.

Sam was known to be the mature Winchester but curiosity was his weak point. ‘Curiosity killed the Sam’ was more appropriate than ‘Curiosity killed the cat’.

“What are you guys talking about?”

This time, the minus 6000 degrees kelvin glare was directed at him but curiosity worked as a shield. He did shiver though.

“Cas over here-”

 Dean said in an amused drawl, patting Castiel’s shoulder annoyingly.

“Was so smashed that he bet that if he lost, he’ll go on a date with me-”

He paused dramatically.

“And Baby!”

Wait. What.

Those were the only words Sam could manage to conjure in his head.

“I thought you were straight.”

He heard himself ask, light years away from his body.

“Hey! That’s not the point! I _am still_ straight. I’m doing this to embarrass Castiel!”

Dean said indignantly, followed by Castiel’s exasperated huff.

“Aren’t you embarrassing yourself too?”

The Younger Winchester asked, confused.

“Nope, I have the upper hand here bitch; everybody’ll know who lost the bet.”

The Older Winchester countered, grinning cheekily.

“No…uh…I meant…uh…eh… curve ball?”

Sam said earning a whack to the back of his head.

“That’s something that’s been on the table of gossip since I started working here, so it doesn’t matter if I’m straight everyone thinks I bat for the other team for some reason.”

Dean replied with a resigned sigh.

“There’s no reason to be embarrassed by something people already think I am.”

He continued with a chuckle.

“I assume that is because you don yourself in a testosterone-ridden macho orbit, people think you are over-compensating for something else.”

Castiel retorted bitingly before turning around and walking away, his head whipping wildly. If the head whipping reminded anyone of a condescending hair-flip, no one mentioned it.

“Wow. That actually makes sense.”

Sam said, a proverbial curtain opening dramatically and letting in blinding light.

“What the fuck Sam?! You’re agreeing with the enemy!”

Dean said indignantly, looking comically betrayed.

  “And you’re being juvenile. I wonder what’ll happen if you lose the bet, Dean, I don’t think you’ll get as much lays as before, like Andy said, it’s a _chick magnet._ And I’m not talking about the potato chips. _”_

“You know what? Shut the fuck up Sammy. You’re positive-ness is so touching.”

Dean quipped sarcastically, earning a scoff from Sam.

“You do realize you suck at bets, no?”

Sam snorted an obnoxious laugh, sure to get on his brother’s nerves.

“You can go stuff your Probability crap up your ass, and barf it all up on your veggies, you floppy-haired bitch!”

**************************************************

“Dean Winchester.”

A voice called from behind, a very familiar one.

“…Castiel?”

Dean turned around to find the normally stoic detective with a smug smile. It was embarrassing, but this was the first time, he noticed that Castiel has ethereally blue eyes. The ones that seemed to glow like cat eyes in the dark. Not that his train of thought wasn’t embarrassing. Seeing the smug face was like a buoy warning that shit was about to go down.

****

“Dean Winchester, this man-”

The detective said with smugness and pride. He has finally got the chance to put this annoying man in his place and get to have a chance not to see his infernal chariot of pestilence which emits unhealthy fumes in the parking lot.

“-Is a robber, who was stealing from a local pawn shop.”

Castiel dragged a greasy man into view from behind him, donned in cuffs. The said man was currently quaking, looking extremely drenched in perspiration.

Dean on the other hand had an impassive expression, his hands casually folded behind his head. His silence was become increasingly ominous by the second and Castiel had a nudge of suspicion but he soldiered on.

“We were in a tie before this and seeing as there is only a minute before the deadline, I should inform you that I won.

He said in triumph, his lips lifting up on their own volition.

His lips soon retreated back to position, though when he saw that Dean also was smiling, very smugly to be precise.

“You’re smiling.”

Castiel stated, dread filling his veins.

In reply to that, Dean’s smile evolved from a smug smile to a violent grin.

“What… did you do…?”

Castiel murmured, dread now filled to the brim in his body.

Dean chuckled heartily in reply to that.

“Hey! Bring ‘em in!”

He hollered towards the entrance, which opened instantly.

What Castiel saw enter, made his eyes widen and heart stop.

“No…”

He whispered in horror.

A group of policemen holding more than a dozen men went past him, Dean eyeing his movements like a predator.

“Got a pimping circle, ten worms with one bird eh?”

Dean said in a mocking voice, his legs now propped on his desk.

Castiel opened his mouth in protest, pointing out the flaw but was interrupted by Dean.

“Nah, it’s their second time, at least for seven of them. Fifteen seconds on the clock, Cas, think you can win?”

Dean said, nonchalantly checking his watch and then looking up at Castiel with fake concern.

“….”

Castiel stood stock still, tamping down the urge to wring the smugness out of the man in front of him.

“That’s what I thought. I win by default. Heh. Who woulda’ thought?”

Dean said with an ungraceful snort and got up, walking towards Castiel.

“Ten…nine…eight…seven…six-”

Dean stopped right in front of Castiel, maybe a bit closer than he was used to.

“Sooo….. any last words?”

“I won’t make this easy for you.”

Castiel bit out, hoping his glare was as fiery as his insides as he looked up at the slightly taller man.

Dean folded his arms against his chest and smiled. For some reason the smile was bright and soft instead of mocking and condescending.

“I don’t expect you to.”

He said in a soft voice, crows-feet forming on the corners of his eyes.

His voice wasn’t heard by the rest of the people in the room as there was loud whistling filling the office room.

Dean smirked in response; the softness from few seconds before seemed like a dream. He knelt before Castiel in one fluid motion, digging a small red box out of his trademark leather jacket and opening it, revealing a cheap replica of a diamond ring.

“So, Cas-” 

He said, his voice booming in the sudden silence which fell upon the room.

“Will you go on a date with me? I spent a dollar on that ring, so you’re gonna say yes.”

Dean said with a lilt in his voice towards the end. He was looking at Castiel with a grin he could not actually define.

“You can’t say no, anyway.”

Dean said with a chuckle, his eyes twinkling with cheeky humour.

“I shall go with…a....Yes.”

Castiel replied, choking with defeat and dread.

_‘Tomorrow is going to be really horrid.’_

Is what he thought, though.

**************************************************

Dean tapped the skin of his car’s steering wheel as he waited outside Castiel’s posh apartment.

They mutually agreed that half-past eight was good because they did not actually want to be in each other’s company for a very long time. Castiel would probably start complaining about how America should adopt Marxism as a conversation starter and Dean would retaliate with ‘Capitalism is what keeps your food on the table and helps you pay for your douche-car’s EMI’ and Castiel would get all sour puss-faced and explain the plus points of Marxism with a dash of Laissez faire and adding that Dean was acting like a red-necked brute.

And well…everyone knows how the night will end.

Dean sighed, his fingers still restless on the steering wheel. Fifteen minutes had passed and there was no sign of Castiel.

 Was he getting cold feet?

No fucking way. This was Castiel Milton.

It wasn’t like he was getting married either.

Did he bail out?

Now that sounded like him.

Dean gulped down the…disappointment? No, it couldn’t be. He just agreed to do this to embarrass Castiel…Right?

Dean thwacked his head on the steering wheel, his palms feeling sweaty.

He immediately rubbed them on one of his best pair of jeans that he donned for the occasion. Dean Winchester doesn’t do nervous.

Dean was pulled out of his confusing contemplation when someone knocked on his car window.

Dean looked up to see Castiel, dressed up in a powdered blue button down and bleach-washed jeans. Dean always thought he only had trench-coats and suits in his closet.

He did not think about how attractive he looked.

Or how the shirt showed off his enticing neck and collar bones.

He didn’t.

When few minutes had passed, he realized none of them had moved an inch and Castiel was stubbornly refusing to meet his eyes, looking at the asphalt like it was his date.

Now that was just not right.

Castiel always looked at him dead in the eye when they were to face each other.

And honestly, it was insulting to be put in a position below the asphalt for romance.

_“I won’t make this easy for you.”_

Is this what he meant by that? He was expecting ghost chilli salsa not liquid nitrogen.

Dean opened the passenger door, startling Castiel like an agitated doe.

Castiel was just standing stock-still and Dean felt kind of stupid.

“Get in already! According to the goddamn bet, we should spend at least two fucking hours with each other, so can we get on with it? I need to review some case files.”

He said snappily. His mood was becoming worse by the second.

“…The cold case that Mr. Singer mentioned yesterday?”

Castiel asked with a curious tilt of his head which reminded Dean of Woodchuck.

“Yep.”

Dean replied, starting the engine. He was actually surprised that Castiel had actually paid close attention to him, but he sure as hell wasn’t mentioning it.

“I thought the high-profile cases you take are always homicides and serial killings? I thought this cold case was a gold bullion problem.”

Castiel looked into Dean’s eyes now, his earlier shyness shed away like dead skin to reveal intrigue and surprise.

Dean’s lips lifted on their own volition, an eyebrow raised.

“Well, you’re right there Cas, I take homicide and serial killings.”

He said, feeling his cheeks stretch into a grin.

“And this case is not a gold bullion problem. At least most of it isn’t.”

Dean continued after a dramatic pause.

“I do not understand…How did you come to that conclusion?”

Castiel said with a confused frown. It was refreshing to see him with assorted moods not including anger and annoyance.

“Well then! Why don’t I take you to the Grandstand burgers; get you a classic bacon cheese burger, curly fries, a chocolate milkshake and a nice slice of apple pie a la mode and we’ll sit under the stars while I explain?”

Dean asked Castiel, donning his lopsided grin. Somehow, this request he asked, felt genuine not mocking like he intended it to sound.

It was like Castiel could read his mind, because his lips twitched into a small smile, albeit an unsure one and replied:

“I’d love that.”

**************************************************

“Dean!”

Castiel gasped.

Dean wished it was because of a totally different reason, but the Winchesters are mostly known by their middle name, ‘Unlucky’.

While Castiel currently was being choked by a man with a length of rope, Dean was being faced with a woman brandishing a .37mm in front of him.

“Mr. Cop!”

She said with a giggle and grinned.

“You’re pretty date over there is gonna bite the dust like he’s one of them I-70 Strangler’s victims!”

She said over the noise of Castiel’s choking. The sick clicking sound of his air pipe straining for air brought bile to his throat and panic into his bloodstream, adrenaline making his heart beat faster.

“He has nothing to do with this dammit!”

The women grinned and swept her bleached blonde hair over her shoulder and scoffed.

“You don’t even know what this is about!”

She said, bemused, signalling the man choking his date to stop, but before he could take a breather, the man held the polished edge of a nasty looking machete against Castiel’s strangle-bruised throat.

“Now, you know the result of that baby against a neck, don’t you?”

Dean stepped forward with a snarl but was stopped short by the gun toted at him.

The women clicked her tongue, shaking her head.

“What the fuck do you want?!”

Dean growled, his fists clenching at his sides. He hadn’t brought any artillery; he only had a dagger in one of his boots. Fuck…Rookie mistake.

“What I want, Dean Winchester, is you and your father’s head on a plate. But…more importantly, your father’s. Rat out your father like a good boy and I’ll let your pretty date go and give you relatively painless death. Deal? ”

She said with a fake-sweet smile. Huh. He should have seen this coming. He could still feel the cold air and the sticky sweet crimson liquid gluing his fingers together like it happened yesterday. He gulped. He knows they won’t leave Castiel alive. Criminal psychology 101.

But how does he get out of this? He needs an opening, a small one should suffice.

At that very moment, Castiel risked getting a nick on his neck from the machete, distracting the man holding him for a second.

Using that timeframe, Castiel butted his head upwards, violently knocking the man’s jaw, stunning him and distracting the women who turned around towards them lowering the gun.

Dean used this opportunity, to run towards the girl, twisting the hand holding the gun as the women screamed in surprise and pain, quickly grabbing the gun, and pushing it against her skull. Dean then spoke with an uncharacteristic stammer; his voice was rough with emotion.

“I’m…sorry, I know…I know how that looked, but I swear if it wasn’t necessary-”

“SHUT UP! I don’t need your petty excuses, you cold-hearted bastard!”

She spat, her voice filled with spite.

By the time he finished wallowing in a bout self-deprecation and looked to see how his date was doing, he was met with a triumphant Castiel and an unconscious man with a bleeding nose with purple and yellow bruises littered on his face.

****

“Do you guys need anything?”

The police man asked tentatively.

“We are fine, officer.”

Castiel said with a sigh before Dean could budge in, flashing his badge.

The police man nodded with a curt ‘Yes sir’ and ran off to God knows where.

“You sure you’re alright?”

Dean asked, concerned, his arms reaching towards Castiel but freezing midway and falling back to his sides. He was eyeing Castiel’s bruised neck with a neat nick in its epicentre like he wanted to touch the skin but made no move. He had never received any looks like that from Dean before so it was kind of disconcerting.

“Are you?”

He asked, using Dean’s own question against him. Dean’s eyes widened slightly, but he kept his face impassive.

“I’m peachy.”

Dean said in a rough mutter.

“One hell of a date, eh?”

Dean said after a moment of silence with false cheer. Castiel let out a soft laugh.

“Indeed. Sarcasm aside, I did immensely enjoy it before the attack. I’d daresay it was one of my best dates because it was serene and interesting simultaneously.”

Castiel said with a vibrant smile which scrunched his nose. Dean was not embarrassed to say his breath was caught a moment in his throat.

“I should get going now.”

Castiel said with an apologetic quirk of lips. If that didn’t look cute, then Spock is a twink.

“My cat, Balthazar would be hungry by now.”

He went on a date with a crazy cat person. Wow.

“Do you…uh…wanna ride?”

Dean said awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

He shut his mouth feeling his face heat up. That sounded wrong.

“I would like that very much.”

Castiel said with an amused smile. Dean answered with a grin walking towards Baby, opening her passenger door, and looking up at Castiel with a lopsided grin and a wink.

Castiel just rolled his eyes and huffed a laugh as he walked towards him.

****

“Good night Dean.”

Castiel said with a soft smile, which seemed to always appear when he was around now. He felt his heart beat faster like a goddamn teenager at that thought.

When he saw Castiel leave the car, the words which came out of his mouth were instantaneous.

  “Why don’t I ...I walk you to your home?”

He now managed to sound like a fucking teenager, a new achievement, but Castiel just nodded with a smile and, he thinks he just imagined it but he saw pale pink dusted on his cheeks.

****

“So this is it eh?”

Dean said as they stopped in front of Castiel’s apartment door. Quite ruefully to be honest. Castiel was surprised at that.

He opened the door to the apartment in silence, turning around to face Dean.

“It doesn’t have to be.”

Castiel whispered, loud enough for Dean to hear, though.

Dean was silent. His heart sank.

“Good night Dean.”

He said softly, stepping forward and kissing Dean’s stubbled cheek as a goodbye.

“‘Night Cas.”

Dean said with a voice rougher than before and Castiel almost swore he heard Dean’s breathing hitch.

Castiel nodded mutely before turning around towards his apartment.

_Did Dean?_

_No. He-_

Castiel was roughly pulled around and slammed against his apartment door, a pair of lips violently sealing over his.

Dean had a hand on his hip, squeezing gently; while he tilted Castiel’s head a little to deepen the kiss. Castiel’s surprised gasp was swallowed by Dean’s mouth. Their lips began to move in fervour, each touch as scorching as the other.

Castiel’s lips gave up its resistance a long time before his brain did. Not that his brain was to be trusted now. His synapses were probably short circuited and his brain cells were burning up.

Dean licked the seams of his lips, demanding entrance. Castiel opened his mouth with no hesitance, exhaling a breath of air before Dean’s tongue licked its way into Castiel’s mouth, his tongue battling with the other, none of them giving up.

Castiel’s hands roamed over Dean’s body, stroking his muscled back, feeling the usually strained muscles jump under his palms. He slid his hands up his broad shoulders, slowly circling his arms around Dean’s neck.

 Castiel slowly threaded his fingers through Dean’s short coarse hair while Dean’s hands settled on his waist, thumbs circling on the hipbones. When Castiel nipped Dean’s lips gently, he growled long and low before crushing Castiel further into the wall, his hips bumping Castiel’s in a groan.

Hardness was met with hardness, unrelenting gyration began. The kiss became more frantic; Castiel gripped Dean’s hair in a frenzy, his date squeezed his hips harder to which he responded with a breathy _‘Dean’_.

When they broke apart for air, the situation finally hit Castiel.

Dean just kissed him, French-kissed him to be more precise. Oh…And rutted against him.

 Of all the things he expected from this man, this was what he least expected. Actually, he never expected that.

He felt his eyes widen and looked up to see a surprised expression on Dean’s face. At least he was not the only one who had not anticipated that.

****

“Whoa. That was-”

Dean said with an exhale and a smirk.

“Intense-”

He added with awe.

“…And hot.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow, managing to look sceptical even with his cheeks flushed pink and his lips swollen and spit-slicked.

“I thought you did not have experience with men.”

“You don’t need to have experience with men to know how to kiss!”

Dean said indignantly, prompting Castiel to make a noise of disbelief.

Dean sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. This part of him was a stark contrast to the one just a moment ago. He knows Dean isn’t the person he paints himself to be, not that he has the right to judge. But it would be nice to see him break the respawning shackles tightening around him like a noose just for a moment or two.

He blinked away the thought and focused on Dean again.

“Look Cas- you don’t mind me calling you that?”

He shook his head in response. Dean grinned in return but it did not look genuine. It looked more like a grimace to be precise.

“Awesome.”

The grimace faded of to a rueful/awkward smile as he continued.

“Cas, if you don’t-”

“Don’t you dare.”

He heard himself growl, pulling Dean by his jacket lapels into a rough kiss of tongue and teeth.

****

When they did finally break for air, Dean took it upon himself to pay back Castiel for the billions of times he was being a bitch at the office.

He trailed his lips to Castiel’s jaw and nipped the skin gently, earning a breathy noise from him.

“I like ‘em feisty.”

He whispered onto the skin he worshipped with his mouth while trailing kisses and teasing bites to his neck, biting the soft skin there and feeling Cas’s jugular pump blood erratically under his tongue.

He knew there was going to be a high school sized hickey there, but people could stare and be jealous for all he cares.

He only stopped when Cas shouted out his name before letting out a moan, gripping Dean’s biceps and pulling himself hesitantly away from Dean.

“I think we should go inside.”

Castiel said with a smile which was teetering on the edge of a smirk, his eyes hooded, and his eyelashes brushing against his cheeks.

This reminded Dean of the hot coffee mod in a video game he played. He sure as hell knew what was happening next.

****

“Dean.”

Castiel whispered his name breathily into his ear, making him almost trip over the fluffy tabby cat on the rug. Probably Balth-

“Balthazar!”

Cas chastised, out of breath (because of the impromptu make-out session) at the fat cat on the rug which looked like it didn’t give a fuck.

The cat lazily stretched before skipping off into the kitchen.

It was saying a lot that Castiel merely just continued to kiss Dean instead of worrying about the kitchen’s demise.

Dean moved his hands to Castiel’s lower thighs lifting him up. Cas’s legs wrapped around his waist instantly.

He doesn’t think they’ll make it to the bedroom.

“Damn Cas, where the fuck did you learn that trick?!”

He asked in a rough, choked voice. His pants felt two sizes smaller.

“Dirty Dancing.”

Castiel whispered before nipping his jaw as Dean let out an involuntary groan.

That was _not_ supposed to sound hot.

Castiel tightened his legs around his waist and ducked his head to kiss his forehead.

“I can hear what you’re thinking.”

He whispered, Dean could feel him smile against his forehead.

They were definitely not going to make it to the bedroom.

And Dean was definitely not going to review case files tonight.

****

 “Lesser clothing would be splendid.”

Castiel said impatiently, clawing Dean’s jacket and plaid button down off, picking at his t-shirt.

Dean didn’t waste time to return the favour, almost ripping the poor button down off Castiel, nipping at his collar bones viciously.

“It is not fair that-ah-I have been dives-sted of my-my shirt while you are still we-wearing yours.”

Dean hastily shucked his shirt off, going for Castiel’s pants next.

“Happy?”

“Ecstati-ah!”

****

He felt the leather of his couch stick to his sweaty, bare back as Dean pushed him further into it.

He bucked his hips against Cas, thrusting harder into him.

All Castiel could do was grip Dean’s back hard, his blunt fingernails scratching frantically as the pain and pleasure increased, reaching its climax. He tightened his legs around Dean’s waist once more, pulling him closer as he felt it rip out of him.

As his vision whitened out, he felt Dean bite his neck harder, almost breaking skin, having also reached climax, he made sure Castiel had felt his intimately.

****

When Castiel regained consciousness, he felt a familiar pair of arms circling his waist, steady breaths, hot against the back of his neck.

Dean had somehow managed to get both of them in bed, seeing as they were covered in his fluffy duvet, not laid bare, risking rug burns or stiff muscles.

He did feel a _different_ sort of pain between his legs, but it was something he won’t ever regret.

Dean mumbled in his sleep and pulled Castiel closer, nuzzling his hair. Castiel smiled.

He was happy he lost, after all.

**************************************************

“Is that a hickey?! And why is he walking like that?!”

Sam asked his brother, bewildered when he stopped at Dean’s office the next day.

“Who?”

“Matt Bomer. Who do you think I’m talking about?!”

“Uh…who?”

“Damn it! I’m talking about Castiel!”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

Sam asked, annoyed by the vague answers he was getting from his brother. He was about to ask once more, but stopped when he saw that Dean’s attention was elsewhere.

Sure enough, he was also looking at Castiel who was currently going all passive-aggressive: Olivia Dunham style on someone. What was _not normal_ was that he had a huge hickey which was barely hidden by his shirt and he was standing oddly, for god knows why.

When Sam looked back at his brother, he did a double take when he saw a similar hickey on Dean’s neck.

He did not realize that he had dropped his phone until he saw Dean crouching to pick it up, all the while muttering unkind things to Sam. Retorting took a back seat when Sam did a _triple take_ , looking at his brother's back.

His Dean had removed his leather jacket, lounging in a tight black shirt and a pair of acid-washed jeans. So, crouching down unfortunately showed a portion of his bare back, revealing angry red scratch-marks, partially hidden by his shirt. He had either got them while hugging a rabid cat or-

Dean had paused, the phone in hand but attention somewhere else. And yes, he was looking at Castiel again.

Oh no.

It didn’t take long to add two and two.

“You slept with CASTIEL?!”

Sam hissed at Dean, who finally got up and turned to Sam, handing over the phone with a sheepish expression. Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. From the look on Dean's face, he deduced that his brother was going to ask, accusingly, mind you : 'How did you know?!'

Oh please. To Sam, Dean was an open book. Mostly.

Surprisingly, Dean's accusing expression turned into one of defeat.

“I thought you didn’t have experience with men!”

He said in disbelief. Dean finally had the gall to look embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I…uh…lied?”

                                  _~Fin~_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Kudos and review ;)  
> Catch me on tumblr:[the-angel-of-absinthe](http://the-angel-of-absinthe.tumblr.com/)  
> PS: I'm really sorry Patrick Swayze.


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